A Tale About Faramir
by Asya
Summary: Chapter 3. Faramir is my favourite LOTR character and I've been always wondering why Denethor was so cold towards him. Well, this is my version of Faramir's life. It begins... from the very beginning :) Please, R&R.
1. Chapters 0102

**Chapter one  
**            
          "I have ordered them to tell me the moment she comes into the world," said Denethor.  
          "Are you sure it is going to be 'she', not 'he'?" laughed Prince Imrahil, who was sitting opposite the Lord in an armchair, "maybe fate is going to grant you a son."  
          "I am positive," replied Denethor, "I hope it is a girl. I have a great son, and he is going to become a warrior who will defend me when I grow old, but I also need a fair daughter who will stay with me and lighten my heart when Boromir goes to war."**   
            **"You have a loving wife, and she will always be with you in times of need. But what about a companion for Boromir? Why should you not wish for a second son just like the first one? They will grow up together, and soon you will be a proud father of two magnificent warriors ... And your second one will be your heir's comrade, and together they will be your best knights. Well, I must say I envy you now!" and with that Imrahil smiled.  
          Denethor was silent for a moment, then said, "Why, you are right! Let's wait. It must be over soon," he paused, then continued, "If it is a son, I am going to make a great Captain out of him... I will spend all my free time with him and teach him the art of war, I will encourage him to climb trees, just as Boromir does, run, jump around and ride as soon as he is able to walk!.."  
          Just at that very moment there came a knock on the door.  
          "Come in," said Denethor, and his eyes shone with excitement.  
          A servant entered.  
          "I congratulate you, my Lord, you have a second son!"  
          Denethor got up from his chair, "Thank you for bringing me the news. Well, Imrahil, you were right, after all! Now let's drink to the health of your beloved sister and my beloved wife and my newborn son!"  
          With that he ordered wine to be brought in, and, passing a goblet to Imrahil, embraced him.  
          "Let them tell me when we may see my son, and also call Boromir from his studies," he told the servant, and then turned to Imrahil, "Finduilas must be looking forward to showing me my son."  
          ****  
          In a few hours Denethor, Imrahil and Boromir were in Finduilas' chamber. There Denethor sat down at his wife's bedside, taking the newborn child in his arms. Boromir and Prince Imrahil stood close by. The boy had magnificent gray eyes, of the biggest size Denethor had ever seen, and when the Steward patted the child's brow, the latter gazed at his Father, and Denethor forgot all his troubles when he looked into those sincere, trustful and naive eyes.  
          "I will call you Faramir," The Steward looked into the child's face again. "Right?"  
          And young Faramir smiled.  
          "Boromir," said Denethor, beckoning to his elder son, "Look. You will play with your brother soon. Love him and care for him."  
          "Will he fence with me?" cried Boromir eagerly.  
          Finduilas smiled quietly, "Ah, Boromir, wait a little bit. Faramir has to grow up yet."  
          "Look, he is smiling, as though he were saying 'yes'!" exclaimed Boromir.  
          And everyone laughed.  
            
          **Chapter two.  
**            
          It was a nice clear morning in the beginning of May. On the eve of that day Faramir was excited, because it was his third birthday, and the first one he was aware of.  That's why he woke up at dawn and immediately sprang down from his bed, and ran across the room to his brother's. Boromir was sleeping with his arm beneath his head and his raven locks falling upon his pillow. He was all in, because the day before he had taken part in a tournament.  
          "Boromir!" called his little brother, tugging at his sleeve. "Boromir, today is my birthday!"  
          "What?..." Boromir opened one eye, "I want to sleep...Leave me alone..." and he turned onto his other side, ducking his head under his pillow.  
          "Boromir! But it's my birthday!" Faramir persisted, while trying to pull the blanket off his brother, "Uncle Imrahil and my cousins are coming! They'll bring me presents!!"  
          Boromir groaned, sat up on his bed unwillingly and looked at Faramir.  "O, yes…" he murmured, "Yes. I know." He rubbed his eyes. "My congratulations! You shall get a present from me, too, when the guests come."  
          Faramir scrambled up onto his brother's bed and inquired, "What is it?"  
          Boromir stretched and said, "Wait and you will know," He grinned and gave his brother a flick on the nose.  
            
          Faramir could hardly wait till the evening. At last it came. Finduilas led him into the Great Hall, where the celebration was going to take place, and where Denethor, Boromir, Prince Imrahil, his wife and their four children, two girls and two boys, were already awaiting them.  
            
          The table in the middle of the Hall was already laid, and nearby stood also a smaller one, where the presents for Faramir were piled up. As soon as the boy saw them, he let go of his Mother's hand and rushed towards the table to look at the presents. On top of all the presents lay a splendid sword in a sheath with diamonds, but Faramir did not pay any attention to it, and began to unwrap all the other packages and boxes. Neither a ball nor a box of tin soldiers interested him as much as a small book of fairytales, which had bright, big pictures on every page. Faramir took it at once with both his hands, and, having sat down on the floor, he began to turn page after page, looking at the colored pictures with great pleasure. He seemed to forget everything around him at the moment.  
          Meanwhile, Denethor came up to him and touched his hand. "Faramir," he said, looking into his eyes. "Faramir, don't you want the gift your father has given you?" With that he took up the sword Faramir had ignored and put it into his son's hands.  
          Faramir tore his eyes from the book with a clear effort and stared at his Father.  
          "This is my gift," announced Denethor, "Bear it well."  
          But, barely looking at the sword, Faramir buried his face back in the book again.  
          Denethor was dumbfounded.  
          "Do you then reject your Father's gift?" he asked, almost forgetting he was speaking to a three year old.  
          Faramir continued looking at the pictures; he did not know what 'reject' meant.  
          "Faramir!" said Denethor indignantly.  
          "Come on, Denethor," laughed Prince Imrahil, "Leave Faramir with his toys! He is only three, after all, and so why be angry?"  
          But Denethor frowned, "He seems not to pay any attention to _  my gift!"  
          Finduilas touched her husband's shoulder and smiled, "Denethor, dear, please do calm down. Let the children play." She pointed in the direction of Boromir and the two of Imrahil's sons, who were busy making war upon each other with tin soldiers in a far corner of the Hall.   
          But Denethor wrenched his arm out of his wife's hand.  
          "Well I never!" he cried. "So he is more interested in your silly gifts!" he rounded on Imrahil, "I would ask you not to send any more of those useless books!"  
          "But..." began the Prince.  
          "But me no buts!" said the Steward sternly, and everyone in the hall fell silent. Denethor's dark eyes flashed suddenly, "Let no more of these scribbles find their way into my house!"  
          "Denethor..." Finduilas said quietly, but the Lord, with one last glare at Imrahil, turned on his heel, cast the sword down on the floor and strode hastily out of the room.  
            
            
          _

  
       
     


	2. Chapter 03

**Chapter three  
**            
          It was Finduilas who broke the heavy silence. Tidying up her hair and trying to avoid Imrahil's intent gaze, she adjusted her shawl, stood up and took Faramir in her arms. Then she came up to the children who had stopped playing but could not understand what was going on and beckoned to them all, "Come, children, sit down and help yourselves to the birthday cake!" And after a momentary pause, as if nothing had happened, she addressed Imrahil sweetly, "And you too," and smiled guiltily.  
            
          Late in the night, when the children were in bed, Imrahil and Finduilas sat down at the empty table.   
          "What has happened to Denethor of late?" asked the Prince, "Why was he so angry? This was low of him. And in front of all the children...."  
          "I was surprised, too," replied Finduilas and shrugged, "I have never seen him in such a state."  
          "What do you think about coming to Dol Amroth for a stay?"  
          "Imrahil, do you not understand what you are saying? I can't go without Denethor's leave, and he won't grant it. I do not doubt your care, but... I cannot leave Minas Tirith. Besides, I do not feel too well now. My heart lets me know of it from time to time." With that she let her head rest upon his shoulder. And Imrahil noticed a teardrop rolling down her cheek. " I miss our home so much! Alas, nothing can be done about that... I love him, but sometimes it seems to me that I will not live long by my love's side..."  
          "Does he know about your heartache?"  
          "No, for I've never told him about it. In fact I don't mean to. He is always so busy with governmental matters that I thought this would but upset him."   
          Imrahil did not answer, but sighed and took her hand in his. Thus they sat for some time gazing at flame, which was fading away in the fireplace. At last Finduilas said, "I think I should go and talk to Denethor. He has not showed up since he left. I need to see him."  
          "Don't distress yourself too much, sister," Prince Imrahil embraced her.  
          "Well, I hope," Finduilas answered quietly, "But I feel I must go to my husband. I can't leave him alone just like that. Maybe he feels bad about what he has done, and I will seek to comfort him."  
          "Well, go, if go you must, sister," said Imrahil, "But do not spend all your strength on reassuring him. He will calm down gradually. Meanwhile I think I should go home tomorrow."  
          "All right. Good night, I hope the room we have prepared for you suits you."  
          "Good night, and thank you for your care."  
          Finduilas walked slowly towards her and Denethor's room. But her husband was not there, and she guessed that he had gone to his own study, where he would admit none but her, and which was located on the topmost floor of the tower. Finduilas began to climb the winding staircase towards the Steward's chamber. But the room was situated very high, and when she was almost at the top, Finduilas felt her heart pounding. Great weariness came over her like a cloud. She stopped and leaned against the wall to take her breath. At that moment she saw distinctly the face of her husband when he had shouted at Faramir and Imrahil in the Hall, and she felt a stinging pain in her heart. In order not to fall off her feet, Finduilas gripped the railing. Her head was swimming and she had to stand thus for a few moments, coming to herself slowly. While standing, Finduilas clearly heard footsteps from above. Someone seemed to be pacing the room to and fro, over and over again. Then the footsteps ceased. Finduilas hastened again up the stairs, fearing that something bad could happen. At last she reached the landing in front of a small circular room. The door was slightly opened, and to her surprise Finduilas saw a pale bluish light coming out of the room through the narrow opening. She opened the door quietly. As she peeked into the room, the dark silhouette of Denethor, who was sitting with his back to the door at his desk, piled with papers, was before her eyes. And from behind his shoulders for one single moment she glimpsed an aureole of that bluish light she saw through the opening. But as he heard the door creak, Denethor clutched a piece of cloth lying on the table beside him and threw it over something, and immediately all went dark, except for the dim light of a candle standing upon the Steward's desk. He turned abruptly, and something in his eyes startled Finduilas.  
          "Finduilas?" he asked, surprised.  
          She came up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "Please, Denethor, I need to talk to you. And, by the way, what was that strange light I saw?"  
          He did not answer. He turned away, bent his head and buried his face in his hands.  
          "Denethor," Finduilas continued. "I wanted to ask you to calm down, please. The children were frightened at your actions, and Faramir most of all."  
          The Steward raised his head; his hands clenched on the table in front of him, and stared with almost mad eyes right in front of him, as if seeing something that no one could see. "And so let him be! He will know what it means to reject his Father's attention!" he muttered at last.  
          "Denethor, be reasonable," said Finduilas, "Faramir simply liked the book more than the weapon... So, what's wrong?"  
          "I wished a girl, and now I have a boy with a girl's heart!" exclaimed Denethor, "And that is unbearable! Imagine: he will have to defend his land when he grows to manhood, and he can't hold a weapon in his hands!"  
          "Please, Denethor," Finduilas asked him, "Let Faramir be for a while. Wait but a little, and he will enjoy your gifts of this sort. He will be a great man. I feel it with my heart! But for now try and understand, that at this age even a boy is interested in other things..."  
          "Boromir wasn't! None of these books will find its way into the Citadel as long as I live! Tell your Imrahil that he's changing and spoiling the nature of my son to what I do not wish him to become. Do note that I shall throw every stupid book of his into the fire, and I shall forbid him to read from now on!" Denethor stood up and came over to his wife as if trying to hurt her.  
          "But," Finduilas pleaded, "Please don't forbid him too much, for without reading he will not be a full-fledged child..."  
          "He will be a dolt!"  
          At those words of her husband Finduilas clutched at her heart suddenly and would have collapsed, but Denethor instinctively caught her into his arms, "What? What's the matter with you?! Oh, dear... Are you all right?" At the sight of unconsciousness of his wife the Steward came to himself.   
          Still holding her, with one free hand the Steward reached for a jug of water that stood on his desk. Wetting his hand in it, he drenched Finduilas's brow, and then looked into her eyes, "My love?..."  
          She opened her eyes slowly, gradually recognizing things about her. Easing Finduilas onto a chair, Denethor knelt before her and touched her hand, "I am sorry. Forgive me, I was just very...you know, frustrated. Please, don't take this to heart... All right?"  
          She nodded weakly.   
          The Steward embraced her and said, "Well, he may read if you want him to. Only do feel better, please, for you know I love you."  
            
          


End file.
